


Silly Little Wyrm

by Welcome_to_chilis



Series: In Defiance of Time [2]
Category: Hollow Knight (Video Games)
Genre: Angst, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Getting Together, PK still has a lot of self-loathing in this one, Pale King Learning How to Bug, Pre-Canon, Slow Burn, White Lady is a bamf
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-12 19:55:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29390157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Welcome_to_chilis/pseuds/Welcome_to_chilis
Summary: In the middle of nowhere a wyrm dies alone.In the middle of nowhere that wyrm is reborn.
Relationships: The Pale King/White Lady (Hollow Knight)
Series: In Defiance of Time [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2158944
Comments: 30
Kudos: 57





	1. Death

The nameless wyrm dug desperately, hoping to find some source from which he could regain soul. He dug, and dug, and dug, but it was to no avail. He was going to die here, bleeding out in the middle of nowhere, alone. He tried to turn back around so that he could at least die under the stars, but one of the weapons lodged in his side caught on the rock, trapping him where he was. He almost wanted to laugh at the poetic irony of it all. Trapped as a consequence of his own actions—again. Left to rot, alone and forgotten, missed by no one, doomed to waste away where his body will go undiscovered.

He supposed this was the outcome he deserved. For all of the ills committed, all the lives taken, all of the problems he’d caused. The sacrifices his sisters had made had long since been for naught—a regret he’ll soon die holding on to. Though, he supposed none of that mattered now. It was all over, there was nothing he could do to change it. It was strange, really, to feel so at peace with the actions that had caused him such grief before. Perhaps it was from the blood loss, perhaps it was because his end was growing closer, perhaps he was just too tired to continue carrying such weight.

He took a moment to appreciate the scenery, the cavern that would serve as his tomb. There was a gentle serenity to it. A certain softness in the silence that he only now appreciated. Oh, if only he’d had more time. How unfortunate this situation was, that only now did he appreciate such simple things.

Oh, if only he’d been a bug. He could imagine it, what he would have looked like. He could have had friends. He could have had a family. He could have lived a better life, a simpler life. He wouldn’t be dying alone in the middle of nowhere. Oh, how he wished things could have been different.

How unfortunate that it could not be so.

_Oh well,_ he thought as his vision began to fade, his energy leaving him as everything grew colder, _there’s nothing I can do about it now._

In that cavern, dark and alone, the nameless wyrm drew his final breath.


	2. Rebirth

_It’s so dark,_ he squirmed, _where am I? Is this death? Is this what awaits after death? It feels almost… familiar. What if I—_

**CRACK**

His hand went through the top of the egg he’d been in. In a panic he began to struggle, causing more of the egg to crack and break until he finally sprang free with a yelp. He stumbled out of the egg and fell onto the cold ground in front of him. He laid there in shock for a moment, trying to make sense of what was happening. The last thing he remembered was dying. He had died, hadn’t he? This had to be an afterlife, then, right? Or perhaps a dream?

“Hello—?!”

His voice! His voice was different! Come to think of it, all of him felt different! What was this? Cautiously, he looked down at his body—

And promptly let out an undignified scream.

He had legs! He had arms! He had wings!

_I look like a bug!_ He thought, looking over himself, _Two legs, four arms—how did this happen?!_

He began to laugh. He had to be dreaming—that was the only explanation. Nothing good ever happened to him. There was no way that he’d magically get his wish _now_. No way! But, oh, what a pleasant dream regardless. To be a bug. To be free of who and what he used to be. How strange. How odd. How wonderful! How spectacular! How nice!

His stomach growled.

He was hungry.

He was hungry?

“Oh no.” He said to no one, “Oh no, this may not be a dream.”

No matter, all he had to do was get up and—

“Oof!” He fell over as he tried to sit up.

Hm, maybe if he got up another way? He rolled over and tried to use his legs to get up, groaning as he ended up putting more weight on his neck and face before his legs slipped and sent his hips back to the ground. He tried to use both his arms and legs to get up, standing on all six wobbling appendages. He grinned in success and lifted an arm to try and move forward—only for his form to come crashing back to the ground as he let out a yelp. Maybe he could inch forward like he did as a wyrm? He gave it a shot, struggling helplessly before he realized he was just moving in place.

_Oh wait! I have wings now! Maybe I could—oh dear. I have no idea how to use them._

He rolled onto his back. He was going to die here—again. He managed to come back by some miracle and he was going to starve to death because he was too stupid to figure out how to do something bugs did so effortlessly—walk.

_Heh, I wonder if I’ll come back as a tiktik this time._ He chuckled to himself, _I’ll probably be too stupid to figure out how the make **that** work and die again. Perhaps I’ll get smaller and smaller with each death until I finally pop out of existence. At least it’ll be interesting. _

In the meantime, he supposed he could keep trying to walk. He rolled back onto his stomach and put all four hands on the ground. Maybe if he pushed himself he could get up? He gave it a try and flew up just a few centimeters before his face unceremoniously hit the ground. Ow. Okay, what if he tried it with his legs—nope same result but with his hips. Ow. How did bugs do this?! He had to think—to reach the furthest corners of his memories.

Wait—okay.

Same position as the first time, but this time pushing off with his arms.

Ready?

Go!

“Ah!” He flailed as he stood on two feet for only a second—before falling backwards onto the egg from which he hatched. He rolled off of it and onto the ground, trying to grab at his back. It burned and he didn’t know what was wrong with it. He hoped his wings were okay. He let out a huff. He almost had it—at least he thought he did. He was up on two legs, if only he wasn’t so weak!

Maybe Grimm was right.

“Bury my mother, pale and slight; bury my father with his eyes shut tight;” He let out a rueful laugh, “bury my sisters, two by two; and once you’re done, let’s bury me too.”

He shouldn’t have gotten his hopes up. What did he think was going to happen? Did he really think that he was going to make it? Him?! He was useless on his own. He was worthless on his own.

How cruel of life, to give him what he’d always dreamed of only to taunt him with his own helplessness.

He supposed he deserved as much.

If only—

Something was crawling in the cave just outside of his shell. He looked over at it and in the distance he could almost swear he saw a curious little tiktik.

_Food._ His eyes widened, _If I can just get to it—I might make it out of this!_

He began to struggle, trying the same tactic to make it onto his feet. He stumbled, falling over and over again. Distantly he hoped that the noise wouldn’t scare away the little creature. He shambled forward on uneven legs, the goo from hatching not making this easier on him as he quickly stumbled his way towards the tiktik. Once he had appeared out of his shell the tiktik seemed to take notice of him, turning around and trying to run in the other direction. In a panic he tried to run for it, falling and rolling over before he stopped on top of the poor thing. He quickly grabbed it with shaky arms, using all of his strength to hold in in place.

“Sorry little guy, it’s either you or me.” He apologized before he quickly slammed a claw into it, killing it instantly.

He began to eat at the raw bug hungrily, giving no care to trying to cook it or be graceful. He needed to eat now—he could figure the rest out later. He let relief wash over him.

He was going to make it.

He was going to live. 


	3. Pale Beings

He was getting the hang of walking—or, at least, he thought he was. He’d only tripped five times today! He still didn’t know how to fly, though, but that was okay! He had time to figure it out. Until then he’d started trying to learn to climb. He wasn’t great at it yet, but with practice he was certain he would be able to get it. He wasn’t certain when thirst would kick in for this body, but he was able to wave away the fear of hunger upon finally realizing that his previous body now counted as food…

… He tried not to think too much about it.

He was also immensely fascinated with his hands. The way each claw functioned individually while simultaneously being able to function together was absolutely baffling to the formally limbless wyrm. It filled him with such joy to experience the complexity of having tinier limbs at the end of his tiny limbs. Once he was able to walk with some proficiency, his entire experience of being a bug shifted back from one of disorientation to one of wonderment. Everything was so strange and refreshing and he was nothing short of excited to see what his life could be like now.

For now, he worked at climbing. He found that he had no trouble using his claws to climb up—but trying to use his feet in tandem seemed nearly impossible. He didn’t have the strength to carry the full weight of his body on his claws alone, though, so he was at an impasse. At least, until an idea came to his mind.

_What if instead of trying to keep my legs along the wall I pressed them against the wall to take some of the weight off? I could move upwards as though I were crawling on the ground._

He gave it a try, careful not to push against the wall too hard, and began to scale the wall. He nearly slipped halfway up, and only then did he look down and see how far he’d gotten this time. A brief surge of panic ran through him before he tamped it down with a fierce determination to carry on. Finally, he could see atop the cliff he’d made when he’d dug these tunnels. He took a look at the distance between himself and that cliff and thought of a plan. He was going to climb as high up as he could and launch off of the wall. If he did this right he should be able to clear that gap and start exploring.

_Ready? One. Two. Three!_ He launched off of the wall.

He was falling.

And falling.

And falling.

And—

“Oof!” He let out as he landed.

He got up and groaned, wobbling a little bit as he got his bearings. He looked around, his mind catching up with his surroundings. Soon, he realized that his plan had worked—he’d made it! He could do this! He could climb!

“Yes! Yes! I did it!” He exclaimed to no one as he jumped around with glee.

Difficult as it may be, he was determined to keep going. He explored the caverns he’d made as a wyrm, now from the new perspective of a bug. It was all so wondrous—the way that everything changed now that he was smaller. Everything felt emptier—yet more significant than when he was a wyrm. Or, perhaps, his perspective on life had changed with his death? He wasn’t entirely certain of the reason, but he was determined to enjoy it nonetheless.

As he traversed his caverns, he came to an opening in the ground that he’d not made—a small opening that he must’ve overlooked as a wyrm. He carefully climbed down it and looked around. Looking westward, he soon found himself stunned in awe of what he saw. There was a whole world down here! How incredible! While he knew that it would probably be safest to stick close to his body while he gathered up strength, his curiosity overtook him. He’d had yet to encounter any danger after the moth goddess had attacked him—so perhaps he would be fine.

He pressed onward, admiring how the scenery changed ever so slightly from the cavern’s he’d made. There was an almost bluish hue to some of the walls, there were small sections of the ground where the rocks had formed a spike or two, and every so often he’d see what he thought to be tall pale blades of grass. Or perhaps they were pale roots. He hadn’t the faintest clue, but he was fascinated by them.

He soon found himself in front of a pool of fresh water. With a cry of relief, he sank down and began to drink from it with reckless abandon. Could this make him ill? Possibly. Did he care? Not one bit. He let out a sigh once he was done, letting the water settle. Once it settled enough to show his reflection he looked at himself for the very first time.

He marveled at his new appearance, gently poking his horns. He opened his mouth to look inside, he lifted his head to look under his chin, he turned his head from side—he was absolutely fascinated. He looked into the water and found his own eyes staring back at him—only two eyes, but his all the same. He felt his excitement start to die out a bit at that—at the knowledge that it was still just him. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. This was a new change, he would learn to stop feeling like this with time.

He got up and looked around, deciding that he should continue to explore. He looked around, spotting an area beyond the water, and thought for a moment. He could swim well enough as a wyrm and he’d seen plenty of bugs swim before—he was pretty sure he could figure this out. He was also certain he’d needed a bath. Gently, he got into the water, gripping onto the edge. First, he had to make sure he could float on his back. He took a deep breath and leaned back, keeping one hand gripped to the edge. He had to remind himself not to panic—this was fine. This would be fine. He just had to force himself to relax. If he focused on keeping air in his lungs he wouldn’t sink.

Once he was calm, he slowly let go of the edge. Alright, this was okay. He was fine. Now then, how to get over to the other side. He thought for a moment as he floated there, before settling on a plan. He kept two of his arms and both of his legs outstretched and used his other two arms to begin to gently paddle towards the other side. He knew he was going rather slow, but he didn’t mind it. It was actually rather nice, the more he thought about it. Relaxing, to gently float along the water towards his destination. He ended up so lost in the pleasantness of it all that he hadn’t realized that he’d reached the other side until he gently bumped it with one of his horns. Startled, he shot up and blindly reached for the edge. After a second of thrashing around in a panic he was able to grab it and lift himself up.

He crawled out of the water and coughed, flushing with embarrassment at his actions. He made a mental note to keep track of where he’s going next time he’s in the water. He let out a huff and got up, looking around. There was what looked to be a crumbling natural ramp that appeared to lead further west. When his gaze turned across the way he caught sight of something that he wanted.

_A cloak! Perfect!_ He grinned as he traversed the decaying ramp without a second thought.

From the distance, it looked as though it had been there for a while. It lay discarded on the ground, dirty and slightly tattered. He figured that no one would miss it, so he picked the thing up and shook the dirt off of it. It was a simple black cloak but it was exactly what he needed right now. His new form was so susceptible to cold—this cloak would fix that! He quickly put it on and looked down at himself. It was a little big on him, both in length and in the width of the neck, but he was certain he’d find a way to fix it later. For now, he wanted to continue exploring.

The growing abundance of pale roots caught his eye and he stopped to admire them. He was curious as to what might have caused such a plant to grow. He smiled softly, enjoying the pretty glow of the plants. He wasn’t paying attention.

Behind him, two roots similar to the ones he was admiring popped out of the ground and wrapped around his legs. He let out a cry of surprise as four more grabbed his arms, bringing him down to his knees with his arms held painfully behind him. He started to panic. He didn’t know what was happening or why but he feared that this would be his end again. His mind started scrambling for anything he could do, any way he could get out of this, some form of escape he could manage.

He couldn’t think of anything.

His attention was caught by a figure that emerged from the darkness. She was tall—incredibly tall. Her branches were adorned with various decorations and ornaments and she was draped in fine fabrics. She carried herself with a divine air and her cold blue eyes struck him with fear and awe. There was no denying that she had to be the source of the pale roots. It was then that he noticed it—noticed a similarity they shared.

_Another Pale Being?!_ His eyes went wide.

He’d never met another Pale Being before. Not since his family died. He had no idea what to expect, what she would do, what he was supposed to do. He didn’t know how she’d act or how he was supposed to act. Then again, he was certain she wasn’t going to be friendly—at least, unless this was a greeting. The extra wave of anxiety this new development had brought him was not helping him get out of this situation.

“Does the dreaded Wyrm think it can fool me?” She snarled.

“I—what?” He looked at her in confusion.

“A simple change in form is hardly enough to trick a god.” She huffed, “It’s barely enough to fool the common bug. I will not let you take my kingdom so easily.”

“Take your… kingdom?” He blinked, “What? I—no! You misunderstand, I—ack!”

He was cut off mid-sentence as a pale root shot out and wrapped around his neck, slamming his face into the ground. She moved closer to loom over him and he was shaking. He tried to speak again but the root around his neck made it impossible. She let out a sigh.

“You’d defeated _her_ light, so I’ll not be fooled by your games or your words.” She growled, “I’ll make quick work of you.”

He could hear it, he could hear roots traveling through the ground, heading right for him.

He was going to die!

He was going to die!

He was going to die!

If he didn’t do something! If he didn’t find some way out of this! He didn’t want to die again! He had to escape! He had to get out! He had to get away! He had to get away! He had to—

In his overwhelming panic he’d accidentally focused his soul on getting away…

… And teleported a few feet back—just in time to escape the roots that came up to try and skewer him.

She looked at him with rage and he looked back at her in a shaken bewilderment. Before he could figure out what he was doing he was already running away. He stumbled as he scrambled to get away from her and get back to his shell—back to where it was safe. She followed close behind, trying to grab him with her roots. They got to the pool of water he’d initially encountered and without thinking about it he teleported across the way and kept running. She let out a scream of frustration—there was no way to catch up with him now, the race was lost for now. She let out a huff and turned back.

He kept running—not letting himself slow or stop until he was at his shell. He let out a cry of surprise as he stumbled at that last drop to his shell—barely able to teleport himself safely to the ground. When he looked up and saw his shell looming over him he let out a whimper and stumbled towards it, sliding down against the corner between his old mouth and the wall. He looked around in a frenzy to see if he’d been followed, hugging his knees to his chest. After a long while of nothing, he let out another whimper. He clutched his legs tighter and pressed his face against his knees as he began to cry.

_Of course it was too good to be true._

_I’ll never be a bug—I was stupid for thinking I could be._

_Nothing will change, no matter what I do._

There, the nameless wyrm sat and wept.


	4. Survival

His shell was no longer a viable food source. The nameless wyrm grumbled as he realized this. He could hold out for far longer than a normal bug— _ ~~an actual bug~~_ —but he too would eventually succumb to starvation if he didn’t do something. Even with the fire he’d made, there was no way to salvage the situation. He would have to go out and find food. Come what may, if he wished to survive he would have to hunt for food in this dangerous land.

Oh, how he wished he wouldn’t have to leave.

He was still nowhere close to being able to fly, and the dangers that lie beyond his old shell scared him. He didn’t want to run into _her_ again—even if he could teleport. Their last encounter struck fear into his very core and it was not an experience he wished to repeat. He did not know where her kingdom began, nor did he know where it ended. If he were to make one wrong step into it, he was certain he would be forced to face her again.

Some part of him wanted to see her again—to see another Pale Being.

The other part of him detested the very thought—she wanted to kill him!

He didn’t know what to do with these feelings or thoughts. He knew that he was lonely, but such was the nature of the wyrm. He could not escape that fact—that he would be alone all of his life. There was nothing that could be done, loneliness was his birthright. Loneliness was his destiny. If cared at all for those around him he would do the responsible thing and be alone for the rest of his life.

Once he was able to fly properly he would leave this place.

He would become a lone wanderer.

He wouldn’t prolong his stay anywhere.

He would keep his visits short.

He would save others the pain of knowing him.

He let out a sigh. All of this was under the assumption that he made it out of here alive. To do that he needed to gather food. To gather food, he would need to leave this safe haven and find it. To leave the safe haven would mean…

_I can handle this._

He took a deep breath. He moved over to the wall he had climbed before and closed his eyes. He knew this climb, he knew this path. He knew what to do. Little by little he made the climb out of his final resting place. He was cautious of the pale plants that he encountered as he wandered the outskirts of her kingdom. Perhaps if he climbed upwards rather than heading west he could avoid her wrath.

This time, though, he refused to get his hopes up.

He knew that there was an equal chance that she would find him. He knew that if she found him she would find some way to hurt him. She’d already seen him teleport—there was no telling what she would do to prevent such a scenario in the future. He didn’t want to find out what she would do to him if she caught him. How would she prevent him from teleporting away? What would she do to him? He only wanted to live. He only wanted to survive here for as long as he needed before he left. He would gladly leave. This place was hostile and unforgiving and no one wanted him here.

This was not an unfamiliar feeling to the nameless wyrm.

Who ever did want a wyrm in their midst?

Wyrms were destructive, awful, atrocious, self-centered creatures who did naught but build and destroy. He couldn’t blame her for attacking him. He would have also attacked him if the circumstances were different. With his track record alone, he should have just accepted her punishment when and where she offered it. However, for some reason, he fled. He wasn’t ready to die—not after being granted what he thought was a second chance at life. He wanted so desperately to live—to do something worthwhile.

If only he was someone worthwhile.

He closed his eyes and let out a sigh. He could stew in his own self-loathing later. For now, he had to make his way through the path until he found something to eat. He climbed, and climbed, and climbed. He was hopeful that along the way he would find something that constituted as food. Maybe he’d scared everything away. He laughed ruefully at that thought—that he’d once again sown the seeds of his demise. That was all he ever did, wasn’t it? Create problems for himself and everyone who just so happened to be around him? If only—

He heard something.

It sounded like another tiktik.

Quickly, he began to follow the noise as it led him further upward. Out of the corner of his eye he thought he saw it moving out through a series of tunnels. He took one step through the tunnel entrance, distracted by the prospect of food.

He let out a yelp of surprise as a pale root shot up from the ground and grabbed him.

Before he could think to teleport the root slammed his body back into the ground before picking him up again to repeat the process. It disoriented him to be thrown around like this—however it was not the first time someone had employed this tactic against him. He quickly gathered enough of a baring on the situation to teleport away from the root. He turned to try and run only to nearly find himself impaled as more roots shot from the ground to stop him. In his momentary shock he was grabbed again and thrown against a wall.

“Do you think you are the first wyrm that has tried to lay claim to this land?” A voice echoed around the cavern.

“I’m the first one to have no interest in this land!” He shot back.

“ _Liar!_ ” She roared

He would have rolled his eyes had she not tried to skewer him again. He teleported out of the way and tried to think of some way to escape her. He was running out of soul to use for casting and he feared that if this kept up he wouldn’t have enough to properly escape her. He had to think, he didn’t know what he was going to do. A root shot up from the ground behind him and on instinct he slashed at it with one of his claws. She let out a hiss of pain—a reaction that surprised him. He had something—some way to fight back. He looked at his claws for a moment before looking back at the roots blocking his path with determination. If he could just land a few hits on her he would have enough soul to escape. 

_I can handle this._

He had to keep focus. He had to time his movements perfectly. One mistake could lead to his death. Another root shot up to his left and went to attack him. He parried the attack just in time before turning his attention to the ground beneath him as he jumped and slashed at the roots that shot up below him. Her attacks grew more vicious after that, roots appearing on all sides of him to try and put an end to the nameless wyrm. With four hands he was able to slash away the offending roots with ease, teleporting towards the tunnel’s exit. Pale roots shot up from the ground to block his path and he went to slash at them.

He was stopped when a pale root shot up behind him and stabbed clean through his left shoulder.

His eyes went wide and his mouth opened in a silent scream as the root wrapped around his shoulder to hold him in place. Shock overtook his senses first, numbing everything around him. Then, another root shot up and tried to wrap around his neck again—only this time he had just enough mind left to do something about it. He brought his already open mouth down on the root and sank his teeth hard into it. She cried out in pain as he bit into one of her roots and recoiled it away with a growl.

“You are the most creative wyrm, I’ll admit to that much!” She hissed as she emerged from where she had been hidden, “To act in such an undignified manner—this is truly unique!”

“I’d hate to bore you!” He strained a laugh before he slashed at the root behind him, his claw striking clean through the root that had pierce through his shoulder.

She screamed as she recoiled in shock and pain and he took that opportunity to teleport behind her over to the ledge. She growled and tried to pierce her roots through him—figuring that there was nowhere for him to run. She had him! Right here, right now, she would end him before he could do anything to harm her people! No matter what it took, she would protect them!

Before the first root could even land a hit he jumped off the ledge.

She looked at him in complete bafflement. He couldn’t have learned to use his wings _this_ fast! However, there was no other explanation in her mind as to why he jumped. Only someone who was confident that they could fly would attempt a jump like this! She readied her roots to attack him in the air should he rise.

He did not fly.

He let himself fall, doing his best to dodge the walkways as he aimed to land in the water far below. She watched him disappear into the unknown and resisted the urge to scream. He got away! He got away again! Who was this stupid wyrm?! What game was he playing?! What plan did he have in play?!

She needed to find a way to stop this little pest before he could destroy everything.

A hand shot up from the water below and grabbed desperately onto the ledge. He hoisted himself up and coughed, using what strength he had left to pull himself to the safety of ground. He groaned and looked at the damage to his body—the root lodged in his shoulder as well as the various other injuries he’d incurred in their fight and his fall. He had to use what soul he had to fix the shoulder first, he knew that much. However, despite the overwhelming pain he felt throughout his whole body he couldn't help but feel a sense of overwhelming joy.

He fought her.

He fought her and left alive.

He could fight back!

He began to laugh, alone in this distant land. He laughed in relief, ecstatic to know that he could do something—to know that he wasn’t completely doomed on his own. Beaten and hurt as he was he would survive this. He would make it out of this place.

No matter what, he would survive.


End file.
